<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Blood Of The Covenant by LetMeBeBrave</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727223">The Blood Of The Covenant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeBeBrave/pseuds/LetMeBeBrave'>LetMeBeBrave</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Water Of The Womb [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abigail Hobbs Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Abuse, Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Found Family, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Happy Murder Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Dogs, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba, Will Graham is a Cannibal, a dog gets hurt, but it lives, its because hes southern its not sexual, lots of use of the word daddy im sorry, they all ran away together, will had a shitty childhood, will loves his family a lot ok guys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeBeBrave/pseuds/LetMeBeBrave</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Family had always been a concept just out of Will's reach – almost foreign to him. What, with Momma having died when he was a boy, and Daddy always having been distant at best, cold at worst.</p><p>He remembers all the other boys at the schools he endlessly skipped between, remembers their obnoxious smiling faces as they spoke about their fathers taking them to baseball games, their daddies taking off work to make it to their useless football games.</p><p>“Have you considered that your disdain for your peers stemmed from the envy of what you would never have?”</p><p>“Those weren't really thoughts a 10 year old kid should've been having, Doctor Lecter.”</p><p>“That is not a 'no', Will.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail Hobbs &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham &amp; Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Water Of The Womb [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Blood Of The Covenant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my first hannibal work is done and im alreading starting my next, these cannibals are my brain worms and i love the funky little guys.</p><p>when i write for a character the first time i like to start off with a character study, so this is a delve into what i think will's childhood and teenage years were like. </p><p>i'd say tw for blood but...we all know why we're here...<br/>CW for depictions of an injured animal. it's a dog who lives, if you want to skip it, stop reading at "Will had found the dog when he was hunting with Daddy," and pick it up again at "When all was said and done, Baptiste had lost the leg"</p><p>hope you all enjoy. expect more hopefully</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
Family had always been a concept just out of Will's reach – almost foreign to him. What, with Momma having died when he was a boy, and Daddy always having been distant at best, cold at worst.<br/>
<br/>
He remembers all the other boys at the schools he endlessly skipped between, remembers their obnoxious smiling faces as they spoke about their fathers taking them to baseball games, their daddies taking off work to make it to their useless football games.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“</em><em>Have you considered that your disdain for your peers stemmed from the envy of what you would never have?”<br/>
<br/>
“Those weren't really thoughts a 10 year old kid should've been having, Doctor Lecter.”<br/>
<br/>
“That is not a 'no', Will.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>It wasn't a no. It was a desperate dodge, a pitifully desperate one. Unlike the other boys at school, his Daddy was gone more often than not, working at one dock or another, leaving Will to return to a dark house night after night. Even when daddy was home, it felt like he was somewhere else. At twelve years old Will could catch and gut a fish by himself, and could count on one hand the amount of times he'd heard his Daddy say more than two words at once.<br/>
<br/>
The word 'neglect' never came to Will's mind when he thought about his childhood, when he thought of Daddy. It didn't fit, because you see, Will never went hungry. There was always food in the pantry, albeit in varying levels of quality. There was always wood chopped for the stove to keep them warm. When he was sick, there was bland chicken noodle soup brought to him, with a gruff <em>“it's hot”, </em>and a pat to the top of his unruly head of curly hair.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“</em><em>Neglect is not only physical, Will. Our emotions must be nurtured as well, tended to with a gentle hand. Especially for children, to be shown affection is vital for emotional development.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you implying that I am emotionally stunted, Doctor Lecter?”<br/>
<br/>
“You said it, Will, not I.”<br/>
</em><br/>
The word that did come to mind when he thought about his childhood was...well, 'lonesome'. For many years, his main source of company was a bowl of slightly burnt microwave popcorn and the <em>Hanna-Barbera </em>reruns on their static filled, cracked, bunny eared TV set.<br/>
He never stayed at one school long enough to make lasting friendships, and to be realistic, no one really wanted to be friends with the gaunt boy who claimed everyone in their grade,<em>“felt too loud”</em>.<br/>
<br/>
Will had given up trying to carry on conversations with Daddy when he was thirteen, had since learned that the man struggled with any form of connection that didn't come in the form of a flame kissing the tip of a cigarette.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Will did not understand the appeal of having a family for many years – and the truth of the matter was that it was due to his deep yearning for one, halted by his inability to understand the inner workings of the dynamic.<br/>
<br/>
Will remembers, vividly, the first time he felt the desire to be a father. It knocked him on his ass, nearly suffocated him and twisted his stomach into knots with the primal urge to <em>protect, </em>to <em>nurture.</em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Your first stray.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>His name was Baptiste, a name that fit his personality and not his appearance.<br/>
Will had found the dog when he was hunting with Daddy, one of their few regular activities together. The cries from the east caused him to fire the gun early as he whipped his head around, wasting the painstakingly perfect kill shot he had aligned and sending the stag they had been stalking sprinting off deeper into the forest. He vaguely remembers Daddy cursing after him, Will's mind conjuring the image of his rugged face flushed with anger, but Will's back was turned as he jumped from their tree mount.<br/>
<br/>
He remembers the impact, the sharp pain that spiked through his leg, causing him to cry out in time with the animal begging for his help, <em><b>papa please, help.</b></em><br/>
He ran with a limp as his leg throbbed, the muggy Louisiana air he greedily gulped down making him feel lightheaded, the cries that echoed off the trees piercing his ears.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't remember how long he ran, following the pull of the paternal rope pulled around his heart, but he remembers the moment he stumbled upon the dog. Laying – no, writhing in the underbrush as he cried, desperately chewing on his left hind leg in a nearly futile attempt to free it from the bear trap it was caught in.<br/>
<br/>
He remembers the metallic tang in the air as he knelt down into the puddle of leaves and blood, remembers the adrenaline clouding the pain in his hands as he pried the bear trap open, keeping his arms strong and his legs from buckling as he carried the dog back to Daddy's truck. Remembers his ragged, <em>“Please help us” </em>when he saw Daddy standing by the truck. Remembers Daddy's unsure hand rubbing his back as they sat in the veterinarian's waiting room, remembers the rough, <em>“'S gonna be okay, boy,” </em>that had made his tears fall harder.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
When all was said and done, Baptiste had lost the leg, but Will suspects he was happier without it. He was a scraggly Border Collie, with patches of tan fur interspersed with his black and white. He was practically fearless after his lengthy recovery, and Will suspected that he knew he'd cheated death and Won. Will liked that kind of spite in a dog.<br/>
<br/>
Baptiste was an awakening for Will. His first stray, his first surrogate child. His first time being, more or less, a father. Before that fateful day in the woods, Will had for a long while felt a deep, hungry feeling inside of him. He had never cared to put a name to it, but the moment he had Baptiste's trembling body in his arms, his voice instinctually becoming a soft coo to calm him, Will had realized what the hungry feeling had been. A craving. A deep, lonely, primal craving to take care of something. To nurture, to form and help something grow.<br/>
<br/>
Will loved all of his dogs, every single one in their own way. However, none of them ignited the same feeling within him that Baptiste had. That deep, almost spiritual connection he'd felt when he looked into those innocent, panicked eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Years later, when Will found himself kneeling in a steadily growing puddle of blood on a linoleum tiled kitchen floor, he looked into a pair of innocent, panicked eyes that ignited the same feeling in his gut that Baptiste had. As he desperately clutched at the gushing wound on the girl's throat, her gasps and whimpers filling his ears, he heard himself issuing the same soft coo's he had used to calm his first stray, his first <em>child.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Will had promised himself, while sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, with it's sterile white lights and uncomfortable blue cushioned chairs that were most definitely soaking up his child's blood from his pants, that he would slaughter armies to keep this girl safe. The truth of that statement punched him square in his chest, and the stark lack of guilt which curled around his brain like a dragon guarding a horde had wrenched a shrill gasp out of his chest at the time. Had made him feel nauseated, made him wretch up bile in a hospital men's room that reeked of bleach.<br/>
There had been a hand on his back, a sure one this time, rubbing calming circles and whispering to <em>breathe, in and out, yes that's it, Will. </em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
However, sitting by his daughter's bedside in yet another uncomfortable chair, listening to the rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor, looking over her bruised form in the harsh lighting, a tall dark stag stalking around the room, the concept of killing to keep her safe didn't seem quite so frightening, after all.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
As the years passed, and Will Graham <em>became, </em>there were quite a few concepts that shifted comfortably into his reach. The concept of family became less of a foreign idea and instead turned into a beautiful, terrifying reality that crashed into him like a tidal wave. His fantasy of holding his own child, comforting them, teaching them, had come true. His most secret wishes to be held in return, to be guarded as he did the same, came true as well.<br/>
<br/>
Hand in hand with the warm embrace of family, came the violent, primal need to protect them with tooth and nail. With blood on his teeth and flesh beneath his fingernails. Like the beast he finally admitted was inside of him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I believe that it is impossible to commit an atrocity if said deed </em><em>is </em><em>committed while protecting one's family. Remorse has no place where there should be naught but relief for keeping the pack safe.”<br/>
<br/>
“'The pack'? Huh, guess I am rubbing off on you, Doctor Lecter.”<br/>
<br/>
“It was simply a figure of speech, mylimasis.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>Will agreed. Wholeheartedly, and often found himself laughing at how his younger, non-evolved self would have recoiled in self imposed mock horror at the idea. And had, on many occasions.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“What're you laughing at, Dad?” Abigail's voice cut through Will's reverie, and he looked away from the scene the setting Cuban sun painted on the ocean and glittering sand to look at his daughter, at how her own becoming had changed her.<br/>
<br/>
Abigail carried herself with confidence and pride, <em>with the knowledge that she too had cheated death and won. </em>She no longer hid the scar on her neck, even when the sun gently tanned her fair skin and caused the taught skin to stand out even more.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<em>“It's like a fuck you to death, I guess. It couldn't get me when it had the chance, and I like shoving it in it's face.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>Will huffed out a final laugh and shook his head with a small smile. He took the final swig of his whiskey with a small grimace and walked the small length of the porch from the railing to the open screen door where Abigail stood, half inside their cabana and half out. He placed a gentle hand on her forearm and a soft kiss to the top of her head, adoring her warmth even in the sweltering Cuban heat.<br/>
<br/>
“Just reminiscing, honey. Nothing to worry about,” He purposely ignored the way she gave him a cocked eyebrow and a small smirk, the image so very similar to Hannibal that it often gave him the creeps, and asked, “Dinner ready? I'm starving.”<br/>
<br/>
“It's <em>been </em>ready, Dad,” Abigail laughed and shook her head, putting a hand on her hip as she leaned back against the door frame, “Pop had been calling you for like, 10 minutes, and just sent me to herd you inside.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yeah? Alright then, might as well lead me to face justice for my crimes.” Will followed Abigail through the door and into the expansive dining room of their home, where their long and severe dinging table sat, full of freshly prepared, truly divine smelling food. At the head of the able, in a high backed chair, sat the tipping point of Will's life, his judge, jury and executioner. His lover. Dressed in a deep red shirt buttoned down to his collar bone, his hair swept back, and an expression on his face that was a mixture of irritation, amusement and adoration as he watched his family enter his domain. The two newest additions to their <em>pack </em>sat loyally by Hannibal's chair, one on either side, tails wagging eagerly as they stared adoringly up at the man, completing the image of him as the stern master of a kingdom with his two trusty hounds.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Trusty hounds who eat their own shit when unsupervised.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will, please do not be so crass at the table.”<br/>
<br/>
“We're having a family dinner that consists of our former lawyer. I think that's far more crass than me saying shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“I fail to see the connection.”<br/>
<br/>
“</em><em>You would.”</em><br/>
<br/>
Abigail made her way to her seat at Hannibal's left, giving a quick pat to Gaspard's head of golden fur as she dropped down heavily into her place, drawing a creak from the chair and a raised eyebrow from Hannibal.<br/>
<br/>
“You finally decided to join us, Will,” He played the role of the judge perfectly as he sipped his wine, watching intently as Will made his way to the seat at Hannibal's right, “I was beginning to worry that the food would have gone cold by the time you returned.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well you <em>did</em> throw me out of the kitchen,” Will punctuated his statement with a kiss to Hannibal's cheek as he sat down, “so really, it's your fault I was out there in the first place.” Will draped his napkin over one leg, and looked up at the feeling of Hannibal taking his hand in one of his own, wearing a self satisfied smile on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“I claim no responsibility for the actions of others.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bullshit, honey.” Will said with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Not at the table, mylimasis.” Hannibal replied with one of his own.<br/>
<br/>
“Can we fucking eat now, please?” Abigail interjected, head resting in her hand, looking exceedingly put upon.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Abigail.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>Will found himself laughing again, full bodied as he'd never laughed before his family had found him. The concept had once been foreign to him, alien and terrifying, just out of reach. Now, with his family cradled in his arms, against his chest, he knew he could never go another day without it. Without them both in his arms, securely in his reach.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my partner wanted me to name this 'hot gay cannibals' but i said no</p><p>kudos make me smile and comments make my day &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>